Fall                               Waxing Blood Moon

Got this comment on my post:  Blood Moon Risin

Gently put, nicely said. Doubt isn’t it’s own reward but I think it’s an honest place to be. As you quote Rilke at the outset – the first stanza of his famous, profound and beautiful “Fall Day” – I’ll offer another Rilke for you.

There’s a story in the collection ‘Stories of God’ that he wrote while working on the ‘Book of Hours’, which most folks consider his better (of the two) work).

Regardless, the story is called, in English, ‘A Tale of Death and a Strange Postscript to it’. In it, a happy couple that have squirelled themselves away from the world, are greeted by death. In their fear they hide from Him, and little by little lose their joy of life.

I love this story because I too am afraid to die. It’s helped me acknowledge and move past that fear.

Keep writing – you do it well –



Jack Beacham

As Jack intended, I’ve rethought that post, considered it.  Here’s how I see it now.  Doubt is an odd word and I’d never noticed it before this comment.  Doubt sets the conceptual table and has a trick for dessert.  Doubt, defined by the person identifying it in another, says really,  “Oh, I see.  Right now you can’t see the things I see, but if and when things clear up for you, you will see them.”  That is, the  idea of doubt from the position of its identifier defines the doubter using the identifiers terms.  In other words, if I express my sense that there is nothing knowable beyond this life, I’m a doubter.  In fact, all I’m identifying is my sense that this world is all we get.

I get the sense that Jack is a kind and compassionate man. I appreciate his taking the time to respond.

As for me, I understand his doubt about my take on the afterlife.

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